


(Real Pain) For My Real Friends

by talking_tina



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: (Accidental), Bloodplay, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talking_tina/pseuds/talking_tina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you don't stop thrashing," she teased, "you're going to hurt yourself."</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Real Pain) For My Real Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Watching The Phoenix awakened some part of me that apparently really digs blood on a certain Patrick Stump. After a short conversation via text with a friend, this happened. :3
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction using fictional characters based in the likenesses of real people. Never happened, and I do not own these names.

Elbowing Patrick in the face was not Vicky's fault. It was totally Patrick's fault, in fact. He's the one who hauled her down on the couch, insisting on cuddles.

"I'm not cuddling you while you watch _Cops_ ," she insisted. "I have some dignity. Spooning to redneck television on a couch that smells like stale beer is below my station."

He blew a stray lock of hair out of his face and smiled charmingly up at her. "Spooning a small blonde angel is very much your station, though. Even if that angel happens to be watching redneck TV. On a couch that smells like stale booze."

"No, no, not booze," she said even as she relented, crawling over him and pressing her back to the couch cushions. "Beer specifically. Not even good beer, just that PBR hipster shit that tastes how Pete's pee smells."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "You're here, aren't you?"

"Yes," Vicky admitted as she cast her free arm over him. "I am here. Admittedly only for an ambush, but still."

"Ambush? Wha--you motherfucker! No!" He howled as she jammed her free hand under him and started tickling. "Foul play! _Not cooool!_ "

Giggling, she wound her other arm up and started grazing his neck, causing him to writhe, grinning. "You're so wiggly, Patrick!"

He cackled and whined at the same time. Vicky decided it was her new favorite sound.

"If you don't stop thrashing," she teased, "you're going to hurt yourself."

She could almost see the speech bubble still hanging in the air as he gave one good jerk and rolled right out of her arms, landing with a concerning _thump_ on the floor of the bus. "Fuck," he grunted.

Vicky tutted. "Aww, baby. What did I tell you? No sooner had the words left my mouth--"

Patrick groaned and sat up cautiously. "Don't start with me. I think you broke my face."

"God forbid!" she gasped.

Then she actually did gasp. "Oh, no, 'Trick, your nose."

"What? Is it bleeding?" He dabbed at it with his hand. A bit of sticky red came away on his fingers. "Oh, ouch, yep. Shit. Gotta be more careful with me, Vicky, you'll break me."

And--shit. The little red bead slid down to his lip as he spoke, slid along the edge and down until it gathered at the corner of his mouth. It left a little rusty-red trail that'd be nasty to wash off later. Even as Vicky felt bad and a little strange for noticing, she watched the ghost of discomfort in his eyes, hovering around the edges. If he were just a little more scared and a little less grown-up, she's pretty sure he'd tear up just at the nagging, mild, infuriating pain. He gently wiped his lip and smeared the mess across his chin, and then there was a stronger trickle, and oh, _shit_.

She couldn't help herself; it wasn't a conscious decision. She just leapt right in and smashed their lips together on instinct--like she really did want to break him.

He made a small, surprised noise and froze, half out of shock and half out of her mashing against his nose. Then he realized he was kissing Vicky-T and instantly went squishy-soft against her, moving his hands subtly from his face to her shoulders, getting a soft, barely-there smear of his blood on her arm. Neither of them noticed.

They sat there on the floor of the bus, all warm mouths and soft tongues and curious hands, for what felt like forever, but was only until Vicky bit his lip.

"Ow." Patrick pulled away softly , scrunching his nose and immediately wincing. "Okay, that was--that was hot, but it was also painful."

Her eyes were huge. "That was half the fun, I thought."

"What, the pain? You're a regular sadist, Vicky-T."

"No, no." She shook her head, breathless, still eyeing the red-orange mess smeared across his skin. "No, it was--the blood. Like, I don't know if I've been hanging out with Gabe and that creepy Way brother too long--"

"You probably have. He probably vampified you."

"But that little trickle of blood, holy fuck. It was just..."

She trailed off hesitantly, realizing how fuckin' _weird_ she sounded, and he gave her a long, thoughtful look.

"Just what?" he prodded gently, after a moment.

Vicky tilted her head a little. "Just...that small trickle, the way it sort of...clung to your lip and trailed down along the curve." She traced its path with a finger, and he didn't flinch away or lean into it, simply listened. "The bright red of it, right against your skin--you're such a little snowman, it's so cute--and the path it left all over you..."

Patrick laughed right out loud. "You sound like a poet. A really bad one."

She rolled her eyes. "What does that make you? My muse? My pen?"

"More like your paper, since I'm apparently 'a little snowman'." He bristled with fake indignation. "Like I haven't heard that before."

"Yeah, sure," she said. "You can be my paper."

And she leaned in for another kiss and giggled, "Now let me mark you up."


End file.
